Wounds
by ShingekiNoPantsu
Summary: Jon Snow is brought back to life by the help of Melisandre and a traveling doctor. While in her care, he allows her to heal his ailments but resents as she managed to heal the wounds in his heart. Jon x OC
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Game of Thrones/ASOIAF. The face claim I'm using is Zhang Xinyuan.

 **Author's Note** : This timeline is after Jon Snow is stabbed by the Night's Watch.

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There was no other choice but to welcome death.

His eyes no longer could see the world. After being stabbed by his men, his brothers, the last thing he could barely see before the darkness came was the night sky and the twinkling of stars. When he was young, he often would look to them with a sense of hope. He heard people once say that one's destiny was written within the sparkling orbs of unknown. Jon always wondered if his was written up there. What would he accomplish? What mark would he leave on the world? Never would he imagine that the day he would take his last, final breath that it would because his brothers, the Night's watch, would betray him.

Despite the rage he wanted to feel, Jon could not fault them. He knew of their hearts were untrusting of the Wildings and he thought that his words alone could persuade them into doing what needed to be done for the greater good of Westeros. They had not seen the White Walkers, but they had seen the Wildings and what they had done to them and their fathers and forefathers and so on before them. Yet why must his life end here? Could it be that this what he deserved for picking up the cloak?

In the back of his mind, he always wondered if he had turned away from this sudden dream of his to protect the Wall and followed behind Robb, then would Robb still be alive? If he had done right, if he had taken up the sword to fight alongside his older brother, then all would be right. Winterfell would be right. Sansa and Arya would be home and safe. Catelyn, despite her hatred for him, would be alive. And his father? Ned? Did he look upon the realms of the afterlife at him with disappointment? With sad eyes of the overly trusting failure he had become.

Lodged in his throat was regret. This was not how Jon wanted to die. Even though he could feel every last bit of life's blood leaving his body, he still wanted to protect Westeros from the fate that lied ahead. Winter. He had to protect them from the Winter that was near. But he could not move, he could not save anyone; not even himself.

Death was silent.

The pain was numbing him, so the pain felt like nothing compared to the fact that life was no more for him.

Fool. Fool. Fool.

It was the only thing he could say to himself as his mouth remain slacked and cold air began to freeze over his lungs. He couldn't move his mouth, not even a twitch, but at least he still had some control of his last thoughts.

He'd liked to think that within this last moment he could remember a time where he felt genuinely happy. One moment wasn't enough, he had many. Yet he was afraid that if he tried to think of them all then he would end up not being able to think of any. So his mind pick and prodded, thinking of shorter moments that meant dearer to him. Like sparring with Robb, the talks with his father, watching Sansa sew, seeing Arya with that smile amidst her mischief. Then there was hearing Bran talk for the first time, and the day Rickon was born, and even though it was for a short time, the way Catelyn prayed to the Faith in the small sept.

He did think of Sam and their talks. The jokes that made him want to laugh but his body could not act on it.

The last thing that came to mind was someone he wanted to forget.

Ygritte.

He thought of many memories of her.

He thought of the kiss of fire that was her long hair, the paleness of her skin and freckles that adorned her face, especially the way her flesh felt upon his during those moments of intimacy. He thought of her sass, the determination in her eyes, and the way she handled a bow better than any man he ever known. He thought of the look of betrayal and tears in her eyes, and the last glimmer of love that she had given him as she died in his arms. And lastly, her body in the state of death that looked as if she was sleeping peacefully before he set her body aflame.

If he could tell her a million apologies then he would, but for now he could only think of them. His death, right here in this snow of the castle where she last took breath, would be the biggest one. He'd like to think that she would forgive him now. No longer would she burden herself with a grudge as the saying of her words went:

 _"You're mine. Mine, as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we'll live."_

He could fulfill it now despite it not being his choice. Ygritte never relented, her words were probably a curse.

For the first time, Jon consented to her words.

He would die as she did.

Jon Snow, the bastard of Eddard "Ned" Stark, was dead.

 **...**

Winter's bitter woes was nearing in a quick hurry, and just little time to spare.

It was not new that the thin snowflakes fell, fluttering down in the lands of the North in dismal silence that would make the bones feel dreary and grow tense. Yet the people of the North on this day would miss the howling of the wind that would pass through like a ghost, unseen but its presence inexplicably known. It was normally envisioned like a wolf's cry to a full moon in the middle of the silent night but the wind would not greet them nor surprise them upon this day. All there ever for this day was silence and snow. A combination that would make one's heart feel wary. What was to come? What did such silence mean? It must be an omen. A bad one.

It had been her first week of the land where the snow falls, and she had not been used to the nitpicking cold. In fact, she suffered from a light illness the first week she came but due to her strength in herbal medicine, she managed to live. Sometimes all it took was a fever to rid someone of life, she was just too determined to live. Never would she let a cold claim her, she would end her life on her terms and in the only way she found acceptable. That was the way she lived. That was the only way she knew how to live. If her father ever once thought his daughter would be as weak to let an illness claim her, he be shamed and kill himself in the afterlife upon the hit of his honor. He raised her well. He raised her good. She could not shame him even when his soul was no longer amongst the living.

Her horse was quiet under her, only neighing whenever he wanted to eat or became impatient by her staying idle. He would rather eat the grass that peeked through the snow as she observed her surroundings. It merely proved that the young horse ate out of boredom, which she deemed as charming but it would rest its head whenever her slender, pale fingers would gently comb through its untangled and smooth mane. That was the only way to temper the young thing, and it wasn't tiresome. She enjoyed the act just as he much as the horse did. "We'll have to go back." This animal had been the only means of life she had been around for weeks. There had been no one else to talk to and no one else to fill the void in what felt like days that would drag on very slowly. Time seemed to stretch on when you were lonely, and quicken when you weren't. Life was odd like that.

The horse went into a slow gallop once she done a light clench of her legs against its sides. Whatever the trail would lead her, she would go. Soon, she would have to find a place to rest her head but without any currency, she would have to get odd jobs here and there for a bed to sleep in.

The deep blueness of her eyes soon saw a woman donned in red with a horse, moving very much in a hurry. She slowed down upon the sight of her, "Are you a woman of medicinal skill?" The woman asked.

"Yes." She answered, "Are you in need of assistance?" This woman hardly looked ill or hurt.

"No, I do not but I have someone that does." The horse turned to see a body wrapped in silk. The raven-haired girl tore her eyes away from it and then at the woman in red. "Follow me if you take this task."

Seeing as she had nothing to do and no place to stay, she followed. Maybe she could get this woman to pay her for her work, it should not come free. Her horse galloped with some reluctance, probably feeling that eerie feeling she also felt as she followed the woman in red. They had soon traveled to what appeared to be an abandoned village and the woman struggled with taking the body inside of an empty house and laying him down on a cot.

By the time she reached in after them, the sheet was taken from the man and there was a young man with pale skin, a ghostly color but if weren't from the movement of his chest rising and falling then she might've thought him dead. Her eyes looked to see the blood stained in his black clothes, feathers adorning him that reminded her of a crow.

Is this not what the men of the Night's Watch wore? Their names were carried throughout the lands so it was hard to not know it. They were considered rapers, unwanted, and outsiders forced to protect the Wall with their lives against those from the other side. They've been called many a names but none of them never sat well with her. If they were men made to protect then why call them such names?

"He is ill." The auburn haired woman said to her, gathering her out of her thoughts. "Take care of him. I shall return when the time is ripe."

"I request a fee for my skills." She stopped the woman in her tracks. "My skills are professional and medicine is not cheap. I believe that currency talks and produces greater results."

"And paid you shall be." Consenting to these words, she allowed the red woman to go before she walked towards the gravely ill man. He looked as if he was been brought back from death but was still knocking on the Stranger's door. The signs would indicate that what ailed him was a terrible flu, something she could cure.

What she had gotten herself into, she was not sure. Yet because her skills and his health came with a price, she voiced no complaints.

The woman stripped him of his cloak, his chain mail, and his boots. All that would remain were his breeches since sweat poured from his skin nearly all over. He was no child, no man she loved, and so she would not bathe him but instead would get a rag and dip in snow-laced water to make it cold and kill his fever. She would let the rag sit as she went back to her horse and grabbed her medicine. Herbs that she would grind into dust, mix in a bowl of water, and make him drink. This was all she would do for now to see if it would beat the fever. The real work would be done until she knew he could be actually saved.


	2. Chapter 2: Awake

**Author's Note** : Thank you to the reviews and follows! I gave you another chapter since I decided on this plot on a whim and because it is set after the book and last season, I don't have much to work with after canon. So I have to create things and I have many ideas. I hope you guys stick around. ^.^

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The first thing he could remember was the constant throes of pain of being stabbed repeatedly with the honess of what felt like a million daggers from a million men. Some of the blades would embed so deep in his flesh, that the hilt would hit him. Some aimed at the same spot as the one before while others had moved to a different place, ripping into his flesh anew and igniting the pain through him all over again and leaving him painfully breathless. It eventually became numb as the blades entered and left just to do the same dance again. It almost felt like it would never end and the torment lasted until breathing just overall felt impossible. He could never imagine a time where breathing, something so easy and essential for life, would feel so agonizing.

The flashes of memories he forced himself to remember came shortly after but were immediately dismissed when he realized he was not lying on the snow covered ground of Castle Black. Instead, he had felt something soft beneath him, and he instantly knew he was lying on a bed; a rather comfortable one at that. His body was in a dull-ache, especially around his torso but the overwhelming heat made him know that he was shaking with fever. There was a wetness of a cloth dabbing lightly his forehead, making him want to force his eyes open. Jon knew well enough that someone was taking care of him. They were not rough either and so he could only guess that this person was experienced in the arts of healing.

His eyes moved despite his eyelids being closed. They felt entirely heavy, almost akin to lead to be exact, but he had faced much greater obstacles: White Walkers and Giants to be exact. How could a simple task such as opening his eyes that even newborn babes could do seem so impossible? After all he went through, why was this so hard? It frustrated him. It frustrated him to the point that he eventually managed to force them open. A blur of white in black and brown glazing over his eyes. Jon had no idea what he was looking at, but it was something at least.

"It is about time you've awoken." The voice was in-and-out, but he was no fool to not hear the femininity of it. It was definitely a woman, that much was clear. For some reason, the image of colors distorted and he was unable to try to recognize who this woman was. Instead, he was gifted with a vision of Ygritte, who was being much more gentle than he could ever imagine her being. Ygritte and gentle? That didn't make much sense. Her name and that word could not even be in the same sentence. He knew he must've been worse for wear. Just the thought of that made him want to laugh as painful as he knew that would be. Yet a part of him wanted it to desperately be her. It could be the Stranger luring him to death, but a chance to see her was well worth it to him.

"Y...gritte." His throat was raw, hoarse, and just speaking was rekindling the prickling flames in his esophagus. He could ignore the pain, for now, to figure out how that unforgettable Wildling girl was still alive. He watched her die by an arrow ( quite ironic since arrows were her weapons of choice ). He had also watched her burn, her body reduced to ashes by the flames that sadly reminded him of her hair. A love that was forced upon him that he grew to nurture, try to ruin as well, and that he would never forget. That was what that girl meant to him. Since she died because of him, he would keep her alive in his memories since his death was no longer an option.

The mystery woman said nothing and the dabs of the wet, coolness of the cloth did not end until after she spoke. "Delirious." She muttered, which Jon assumed was meant to be unheard by him. "I should've expected that." His eyes fell close, he already used enough strength to open them halfway despite how fruitless it had been since he could not properly see. He was not blind but too tired to gather his focus.

"Who…" Despite the pain, he struggled to get his words across. He had to know who was taking care of him. How was he still alive? Why were they helping him? "are… you?"

The woman remained silent, her eyes studying him as he seemed to be content with lying down. Most people would be making attempt to lift themselves, but not him. He must've been in too much pain or knew the risks. He would be flooded with an immediate headache and dizziness if he even dared tried to to sit himself up. Maybe he wasn't as foolish as she expected him to be. He seemed like a fool. He nearly died like one. The many stab scars on his abdomen and torso seemed to prove that someone or others wanted to kill him, badly. And yet the woman in red wanted him desperately saved. What purpose did this man serve? If only she had his name.

"My name is of no importance." Her words came out slowly, letting them settle and resonate with him. "Who I am and why am I helping you, do not care. Do not mind. The only focus you should mind is getting better."

Jon was mystified by her. Why did she not offer her name? Would he refuse her help if he knew who she was? And what was her motive? Was she so kindhearted that helping a man who should be dead was something she would do for free and on her own time? Jon had trouble picturing anyone being that genuinely caring. This woman had a motive. What it was? He had no idea, but he would not think too hard of it. His brain would turn to mush if he did.

Lifting herself off the chair by his bed, she picked up the basin to refill it with fresh water from the well. It was clean, nearly pure. Never had she seen pure water like this since she left her home some time ago. It would do well for him to drink, to make broth, and to bathe his fevered head with. She assumed it would come back if she did not dose him timely and she was human. Time was never on the side of humans, especially the ill and the weak. There would be times where she need to eat, sleep, and rest. A healer cannot cater to their patient without time of their own because then both patient and the healer would be ill, or worse, die. And she fought the idea of him dying once she took this job.

Never had she ever had a patient die in her care. They would all live and she did not want to break such a record with this man. Her eyes glanced back at him as she walked towards the door, her blue eyes resting on him with a glimmer of fierce determination and diluted curiosity.

"Where…" Her body had frozen in place, her head slowly looking over her shoulder. The question was obvious, but she was debating if she should answer. Why did he know where she was going to go? It wasn't like she had no intention of leaving him here forever. "Where… are you…?"

Hearing him struggle to speak was enough to make her pity him. As if she already hadn't due to the state he was in, "I will return. You need water and broth." Feeling satisfied with telling him that and watching the tenseness of his muscles relax, she had left to journey to well after dumping the last bit of water she used to clean his head.

 **. . .**

Two times had the sun rose and set before Jon felt the strength to open his eyes properly. His temperature had gone somewhat normal despite that he was shaking with light traces of fever and shivering from a sudden cold sweat that would come now and again. The tightness that he once felt in his chest dissipated completely and he could easily breathe as a human should once again. Just from the way the sunlight was seeping through the small window of the room he resided in, it alerted him that the time was mid-morning at the very latest. Although he wanted to get up from the bed, his strength had not came back to him all at once and so he settled for merely sitting up. He wore a loose tunic and the black breeches of his Night's Watch uniform still. There were no socks on his feet either, which allowed him to curl his toes and hear the bones pop from a much needed stretch. He hadn't smelled as badly as he would've thought, which meant he must've been lightly bathed. The thought of the woman having gone that far was enough to unsettle him.

Jon decided to take the time to observe his surroundings since he had nothing else to do. The bed he lied in was on the far left side of the room with a nightstand next to it. A lamp made of oil had been doused but he could tell it had been recently used, probably just an hour before sunrise too from how fresh it was. The room did not have much furniture, which led him to believe that the woman ( who he assumed owned the house ) must've been poor. Could she had been a village doctor? That would explain her mercy. If she lived as humbly like this and had taken him in when he had no money then he could no doubtedly believe that she was gentle at heart.

His sensitive ears twitched at the sound of slow and very light steps from the other side of the door. Jon believed that was the healer, possibly coming to check on him again. For some reason, he felt nervous. It had been a while since he been in another woman's presence since he encountered the Wildlings after they sailed back and came over the Wall as allies. His face contorted into one of sadness and anger; the betrayal of his brothers all coming back to his mind. How could he forgive them? He wanted to empathize, he knew why they were in such deadly anger, but he found it so hard to shake the grudge he wanted to so desperately have.

A mutiny against him, their Lord Commander, who wanted nothing than to save his people of Westeros as he vowed to do. He had given up everything. He had given up avenging his dearest brother, Robb, who was destined to be the King of the North. He had given up killing Roose Bolton, letting the Valyrian steel of Longclaw slice his head clean off, and letting the blade slide through the bastard son, the cruel Ramsay. He had given up searching for his sisters, Sansa, and the precious fire that was Arya. Jon could've saved Bran and Rickon as well. All those things he had given up for the Watch, and yet they betrayed him.

His regrets and anguish washed away once the door had slowly open, the creaking of it pulling him out of his thoughts. The eyes of the Lord Commander gazed up at the woman, the woman who had essentially saved him.

Jon was more than shocked by her appearance.

He hadn't expected her to be young and quite a breathtaking sight too. Her hair was as black as the feathers he adorned on his cloak, her skin so pale and free of blemish, but it was her eyes. Her eyes reminded him of the ocean depths. If he looked into for too long, they would show no mercy like the Mother sea and swallow him whole.

Her clothes were slightly oversized, so he could not tell much of her figure from them. It was a odd sense of clothing too, making her look more like a witch than a healer. Around her neck were bones hanging off a gold, and squared necklace. Around her waist, it was belted but forged nails seemed to hang from them, something she could probably slip onto her fingers and they act like sharp claws. Jon found her striking but also deadly, much like he thought of the Red Woman that had always been with Stannis. Yes, he had forgotten about her despite the tempting offer she tried to give him and her subtle warning too. Had her warning been about the Watch?

"You are able to sit up by yourself." Her voice tore him away of his thoughts of Melisandre. He had been alarmed by the sound of it. It was soft yet hard, teetering the balance between malevolence and benevolence. It suited her since her looks gave away the same feeling. "You will soon break free of what ails you."

"Thank you for taking care of me." Jon felt relieved that the burning sensation of his throat was gone. She must've constantly fed him water but sometimes water wasn't a quick solution to a sore throat. Maybe it was best to learn so he could learn how to cure himself whenever he was faced with it again, "My voice doesn't sound so ragged…"

"I put peppermint leaves in your water." Walking towards the small table near the door, her petite fingers picked up a peppermint leaf, revealing it to him. "It is best with tea but since you needed to lie down as much as possible, I could not give you scalding tea. It would've worked much faster but since you slept like a log, water did just fine."

He was surprised but also embarrassed. The sleep had been deep, he knew that much. For once in a long time, Jon could say that he was well-rested. "And here I thought peppermint's only service was to just make your breath smell nice." He joked, hoping to lighten the air between them.

The corner of her lips rose slightly, "It has other duties."

Seeing how receptive she was to it, he felt his bones and muscles relaxing. There was no need to be tense anymore. "Your name. Tell me."

"Amara." Her answer was swift, her eyes dancing across the different flowers and herbs scattered across the table, "And yours?"

Jon hadn't suspected that she did not know his name. It seemed as if everyone knew him as "Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell's bastard" but this woman had no clue. It made him feel oddly relieved, "Jon." He answered, "Jon Snow."

His dark eyes watched her eyes widen just a smidgen of a fraction as he revealed the bastard last name of those of the North. Jon honestly suspected for her to bring up his illegitimacy, but she said nothing. Did she not care? Her curiosity must've not bloomed for him. Instead, he found his blooming near fullness for her. "You're a healer of this village?" He then queried.

Amara's head shook calmly, "No."

Her one word reply left him curious and confused. "Then why are you here? Does this house belong to you? Why did you save me?"

"I know you are filled with many of questions, Snow." Her hands stitched themselves together before she slowly turned to face him. "But I want you to first answer me this."

"Ah, yes?" The tension came back, it had came back so much that this room could light a flame. However, Jon wasn't sure if that was the natural auras of themselves or if he was imaging it.

This woman was intimidating by sight. She looked as if she could cast a thousand curses with just glance of the ocean depth colors of her eyes. "Are you a fool?"

"A fool?" Jon echoed.

"Yes, I want to know if what I've done to save you was well worth it." The floor creaked with each step as she carried herself over to the wooden chair by his bed.

Awkwardly, he adjusts himself, slightly alarmed by the lack of distance between them now. Her eyes were even bluer up close, the light coming from the window making them reflect the ocean's surface than its depths. "Depends on what you consider the traits that makes a fool."

The smirk that graced her lips caught his eyes as her eyes slowly slit close, "So you're not a fool by nature but a fool by heart." Her eyes soon opened, a slender finger pointing to the scars of the stab wounds on his abdomen and torso. "You let someone stab you in the front and not the back. So it had to been someone you irrevocably trusted."

"It wasn't someone." He corrected her, "It was more than one person. People I thought to believe my brothers. I am a fool, I've realized that when it happened. I thought my brothers' faith in me would not waver but they quivered like a bowstring before they eventually snapped."

At least he knew he was a fool. Amara could admire that, "I can tell you're a man that puts honor on his blade and duty as armor. Your trust was a helmet, and now that is has been knocked off, you feel wary of all you meet."

"Is that wrong of me?" It didn't sound like a question towards her but more so to himself. "But this is more than me."

"Was it the Wildlings?" Amara asked, "That is who the Night's Watch protect us from, isn't that so?"

"It is more than just them." Jon wasn't sure if he should tell this woman of the White Walkers or much of anything at all. Would she believe him if he did? She might just leave, calling him crazy, and he wouldn't be brought back to complete health.

Taking his answer for what it was, her head gave him a slight nod. "I see." She would not investigate any further, for now. "I've made you broth. Would you like to eat or would you rather slick your thirst with tea?"

"I feel more hungry than thirsty." His answer was greeted with another nod and she had taken a stand. "Miss Amara."

It felt awkward to hear her name accompanied by Miss. Her brows scrunched together in discomfort and confusion and he could honestly say that threatening way of her wiped away. She looked more like a child that was asked a hard question and she had no answer for it, "Yes?"

"I am indebt to you." He made his words quick, "If there is something you need me to do then I will. It is the only way I can repay your kindness."

Her lips pursed, eyes glimmering with surprise. "I do not think there is anything you can for me, Snow. I will hold onto this debt for later since you've mentioned it."

Her back had turned and she left the room. Leaving him to himself and the quietness of the room.

Jon swung his legs over to the bed and made an attempt to stand. His legs felt as if they had disappeared, weightless, and he found himself falling back on his backside. He also felt woozy when he tried to stand, which alerted him that he was not far along in recovery as he thought. Sitting up was no chore, talking wasn't either, but standing and walking was not up to his speed just yet. Still, he would force himself to get better.

Maybe trying again wouldn't hurt. It was the first time he stood in a while. He hadn't know how long he had been out or ill anyway, so his body needed time but it also needed a little extra push. Jon tried to stand once again and he could feel a little weight of his legs, but not enough to call it stable. Anxiously, he made his way for a step and then another until he felt himself tumbling down on the wooden floor with a loud groan. His body slightly curled, knowing that standing wouldn't do him no good again.

The door opened and Amara peered down at him in mild amusement. "You tried to walk?"

"Tried." He said, lifting his head to look at her. "How long have I been like this?"

"Two weeks." She answered him, "You've been in my care for one week and traveled for one."

His brows knitted together, "Someone brought me here?"

"Yes." Amara answered as she walked towards him, putting the the tray of food on the desk away from his medicine. Her hands grabbed his left arm, draping it around her shoulders while her other arm wrapped around his middle.

Jon's eyes never left her form as she let half his weight lean onto her. She gazed up at him rather bravely, "Who brought me here?" He finally asked after the short silence of staring at her, captured by those odd eyes again.

"I do not know their name." It was true. The Red Woman never gave her, her name and she said she would come back when the time was ripe. And since then woman never returned, she knew very well that Jon would have to stay in her care until she had. "She wore red and had red hair."

"Melisandre…" Jon instantly knew. He also remembered that she had came back to Castle Black, telling him and Davros Seaworth of the death of Stannis and his family as well as the failure of his march to end the Boltons. "She brought me here. I thought I was dead."

"You were barely grasping the rope of life." Amara brought him to the bed, letting him sit at the edge of it. "You should've been dead." She nodded, "The scars prove it but I do not know what that woman did, but she brought you back and I only helped temper the Stranger."

Jon's eyes gazed up at her, he could tell that from the way her eyes held scared curiosity that she was telling the truth. "I was thinking you were a kind woman, taking me of your own volition."

"Had I seen you on the ground, I would've kept going." The corner of her lips rose, "I am a healer but I am no witch nor God. If I had found you as you were given to me, I would've took pity on you." Her head went into a slow nod as she admitted she would've helped him. "Though I am being paid for taking care of you."

He knew no person was that kind even though she admitted she would've helped him if he was far more than out of a healer's touch. Jon could've smiled at that but he chose no expression. Amara went towards the tray and brought it to him and beside it was powder on a white parchment, a bowl of what smelled like chicken broth, and a cup of water. "Broth and medicine."

"Thank you." His head lowered gratefully as he rested the tray in his lap. The spoon beside the bowl was soon dipped in the liquid food and brought to his lips for a sip. It immediately warmed him and his belly yearned for more. "You didn't look like much of a cook."

"I am a healer." Her brow raised, slightly offended by his words but staying coy. "Food also helps rid sickness. It is essential for healing too." His eyes smiled while his lips did not as he watched her leave the room. "You reek and the bed does too. I'll help you to a bath when you're done."

Jon nearly choked as she basically said that he smelled awful. Once she was gone and the door closed, he raised his arms to take a whiff of him. His eyes burned and his head turned away quickly. "Gods, I smell like a horse's ass."


	3. Chapter 3: Two Sides, One Coin

**Author's Note** : And here's another chapter. I hope I didn't disappoint. It is rather short since there are many things I am still deciding on, but here is some bonding between them and some of Amara's background that is sure to effect things later on.

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He was a patient man. At least Jon considered himself so, but it shouldn't take this long to draw a bath, should it? No, it definitely shouldn't. It hadn't really made sense why she had taken this long. His hands rested on his lap, his eyes closed as he rested his back on the wall since this bed was without a headboard. It was just a simple cot, he was used to such bedding at the Night's Watch. At least this bed was much more comfortable than the rugged ones at the Wall. Everything led his thoughts to it, wondering if he was still the Lord Commander since his brothers committed a mutiny. How would they feel to see him alive and walking? Well, he couldn't walk now but if he had gone back, he would be able to. The look on their faces would be worth more than what gold dragons could buy.

His concentration broke once the terrible smell that came off the pillows and sheets filled his nose. They would need to be washed and he couldn't help but feel guilty for giving the healer more work to do after she had saved his life. If he could, he'd help lessen the chores, but he could barely stand for a good half a minute. He would just be a nuisance, tumbling to the floor and having her repeatedly help him to his feet like a child learning to walk for the first time. It was embarrassing to be in this condition, but it was a good thing that she was patient and did not mind doing these kind of things. Of course, Jon was sure that her patience would run out eventually, he could see the temper in her despite how much she was trying to keep herself composed. There was more to her than she was letting on, but he knew he wouldn't figure her out all at once.

There were other things he had to think about anyway. He had to know what Melisandre had done to him; the lengths she had gone to stray him away from death or revive him from it. He was sure he died. He knew he had. Jon also had to figure out what he had to do regarding the Night's Watch. There were many things that he should be thinking about instead of who this woman was and what was she like. It must've been because it had been so long since he seen another woman and it was his natural instinct to be intrigued by her. He was a man that was attracted to women, and the woman was not the conventional beauty that would have the Highborns falling to their knees. Her beauty was mysterious and dark, which was enough to intrigue anyone with seeing eyes.

Still, no other woman could move him as his heart still belonged to Ygritte. It was because of her that his physical temptation was sliced by the sharpness of Ygritte's arrow of devotion upon the sight of the Red Woman's breasts and invitation before him. Even though, as the Red Woman said, Ygritte was dead and the dead do not need lovers, his heart wouldn't allow him to touch no other woman. Maybe it was Ygritte spirit cursing him from moving on. Jon felt he deserved that karma; Ygritte's vengeance. After all, he allowed her to die. He'd never forgive himself for that even though the odds were never in their favor. They were never meant to be; a bastard Crow and a free-spirited Wildling girl.

"Snow." His eyes immediately glanced up at the healer, who stood before him with her fingers laced together. The look on her face reminded him of a little girl, like before, who seemed rather uncomfortable in front of an adult. She could create the most innocent, childish expressions at times, which always made him smile. How many namedays was she to be able to make her eyes look big and unknowing or her plump lips to form pouts and frowns that made her more appealing to the eyes. She could easily sway any man if she used it for personal gain.

"Yes, Miss Amara?" He said, never letting his eyes leave her face as she lowered her eyes to the wooden floors.

"I am unable to draw you a proper bath." It sounded like she struggled to say it. And she made no attempt to look him in the eyes, possibly embarrassed. "But I do know of a spring of hot water, if that's better."

It was better than nothing but how could he possibly get there?

Jon gave her a curious stare, watching as she kept her eyes at the floor. He was amused by this sudden shyness since she had never displayed such an act or this exact face before. He dubbed her as blunt since she spoke so freely without hesitation during their last talk. But yes, she was very much like a child at times. "There is nothing wrong with a spring." He said, "But I'm afraid I won't be able to get there."

"I'll help you there and leave you to bathe." Amara simply put it, not seeing why it would be difficult to do that. She finally mustered the courage to look at him, her head cocking in a rather arrogant angle. "My horse will do what your legs cannot."

He paused. Was she insulting him? His brow quirked as she wore a rather triumphant smirk but then extended her rather small hand to him. His eyes stared at her palm, purposely to leave her waiting. If she wanted to insult him, he would press a button or two. It wasn't like he was serious, he enjoyed being able to play. It had been such a long time since he had been able to. His eyes then tore themselves away from her palm to see her rather irritated face. The grin he fought to not expose made itself known and he was given a rather scary glare. His hand grabbed onto hers, lifting himself to his feet.

"I did not find that funny." Amara quipped as he tried to lessen his weight on her and focused his eyes on his feet.

"I didn't find what you said funny either." He replied, "But an eye for an eye."

"I didn't know you live by such a frivolous code." She said, "I thought you were honorable."

Jon's dark eyes looked at her but she steadied her gaze ahead as they walked towards the black Stallion that was eating whatever traces of grass it could find. His eyes could finally roam around this place and his stomach nearly turned as he remembered exactly where this place was. This was the village that the Wildlings destroyed and ripped that boy, Ollie, of his family and home. Life sure did have a funny way of throwing these kind of things back at him.

"I don't live by that. I've taken vows to not be that way but since I… died, I don't have to live them anymore." It was true. He was sure he died but the Red Woman brought him back. He was free. Free of the vows he made, free to take the heads of Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, free to go back and reclaim Winterfell, free to take a wife and have children. He was free to do anything he ever wanted and more, but he couldn't help but think that was the coward's way. That he would just be running away from his problems that he swore to handle. He could add wood to his anger's flame and allow the Night's Watch to fend for themselves against the great threat ahead of them, but he had already invested so much. And he had many people to protect by protecting the wall. "But I have realized something about honor…"

Her eyes glanced over to him, meeting his as they finally made it to the horse. "And what is that?"

"Honor gets you killed." His voice was rather somber, she noted. He had climbed up on the horse, helping her up and allowing her to be in front of him. Amara stared ahead, letting his words sink into her grey matter as she mindlessly grabbed the reins. "Honor is what killed my father and my brother." There was a trace of solemness in his voice, "Honor is what also killed me."

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder and at him. He met her eyes until she finally turned away and they began to ride off as she knew the way of the spring. It seemed impractical to go so far for a bath but he would rather to be in warm water than in the freezing river. It wouldn't be good for his health either and that's what she took in consideration.

When the horse's steady gallop stopped, she had climbed down and helped him as he helped her. Jon nearly tumbled a bit, legs moving rather wobbly, but the woman made sure he stayed on his feet and did not fall over. The spring was surrounded by trees and so any onlookers would have made a sound if they dared. Although, he'd like to think nobody would even care, not even the healer who already turned her back on him so he could undress. "I don't want to ask but I'll need your help."

"Help with what, Snow?" He could tell that she was toying with him from her voice alone.

"You know what I mean." Waiting, he heard the crunching of snow from her walk as she stood next to him. He already undressed himself but it was the point of walking to the spring. The situation was an uncomfortable one and he figured it was for her more than him. Here she was, leading a naked man to a spring but she was much more calm than he expected her to be. Her eyes did not look at him, letting her body do all the work. Her hands grabbed lightly onto his arm, giving it a slight squeeze to indicate she had a steady hold. Awkwardly, he was helped towards the hot water, his feet were freezing from having kicked off his socks and letting his bare feet in the crunchiness and coldness of the snow. If he wasn't careful, he was sure he would get frostbite from letting his toes sink any further into the ground.

His foot dipped in the water first, wincing as he hadn't realized just how hot in temperature the spring was. Amara slowly looked up at his face, observing his reaction. "Are you going to get in or not?"

The stare he gave her was greeted with a smirk. She found pain for him humorous, which was quite odd for a healer. What doctor finds kicks in the pain of their patients? A strange one, he thought. Maybe a mad one. Jon slowly made his descent into the water, feeling the warmth of her hands on his arm leave him as he began to wade in the water, seeing it come up to his waist. Amara was glad that the surface of the water rippled and the steam was a great help too, for it concealed the the lower half of his body from her gaze. She had picked up his Gods-awful smelling clothes and turned to look at him, "I'll be back."

Shocked, he narrowed his eyes. "Are you insane?" Jon knew she wasn't crazy enough to let him stay there, naked and unable to defend himself if someone dare come for him. Was she? Was she really all that crazy? He hoped not. He hoped for his sake that she wasn't.

Innocently, she pointed towards Longclaw that lay next to a boulder. "Your sword is right there. You can still fight."

"Amara." His voice was taut, warning her that he did not find this humorous. "Stay here."

Her brows raised, her cheeks puffed rather childishly as she looked around. She then spoke, "Why must I stay and watch you bathe?" Her eyes looking at his stony ones, "Wouldn't you want me to wash your clothes? I much prefer to."

His brow raised questioningly, "You've already brought a spare of clothing for me to wear." He said now smirking amidst her little game. "I saw you hiding them in your cloak."

Caught, her eyes widened as she bit her cheek. She wanted to watch him scramble after her, she really wanted to entertain herself with him being the fool, but he already had her trapped from moving this game further. "I never guessed you were that observant."

"After what I've seen and been through, Miss Amara, you have to be." Jon replied while smoothing the warm water over his aching torso. "And it would best if you stay close by…" He paused, "for protection, that is."

Her body stiffened. Slowly, she turned to face him and they locked eyes but Jon could see the unsteady waters of hers. They looked like a fierce ocean, the kind that made the surface look tumultuous. "Are you saying you will protect me, Jon Snow?"

"That is what I am saying." Seeing nothing wrong with his words, he wondered why she gave him that odd look in her eyes. Amara stood rather quietly and still with her eyes peering straight at him as if she would drown him. It was as if she had no intention to look away and he had no intention of doing so himself.

"And what makes you think I need it?" Jon knew not if her words came out of anger or curiosity. The tilt of her head read curiosity but the look in her eyes and rumble of her voice spoke otherwise. By no means did he mean to offend her. Was offering protection such a bad thing?

Clearing his throat, he glanced down at the water to gather his thoughts and come correct. "You're a healer. I imagine that you don't kill for a living." Was his reply as he waded in the water.

"That may be, Jon Snow," The woman brusquely said. "However, with your condition that may cause mishaps, I shall decline your help and do the protecting myself."

So she was offended. Jon eyed her with question, wondering why she seemed offended by his offer for protection. Wouldn't most people think that her hands were used for fixing than killing? Women, he dismissed it as so. Ygritte would've said the same except not so eloquently and Arya would too with much fierceness. The thought of the both of them made him smile rather sadly.

The soreness in his legs were being reduced by the hot water. He tried to mask his pain earlier and managed to keep from hobbling in front of Amara when they first left the small house. That was the most walking he had ever done in two weeks. He thought she hadn't noticed or more like he hoped she hadn't. Jon saturated his arms, feeling relieved to rid himself of the smell of sweat and sickness. There was still a stench of blood on his hair, and so he dived into the water to free himself of it.

Amara returned to letting her back face him. She didn't want to be interested in how he bathed or how he looked when soaked. What interest would she have in that? He was a man. A simple man. And she had met many men and none of them held any importance to her; naked or clothed. Speaking of which, the spare clothing Amara had hid from him, she now placed on top of the rock next to his sword, which happened to now take over her curiosity.

Lifting the weapon in her hands, her eyes studied it with intrigue. The ripples of the blade fascinated her and were nothing like the many blades of swords she had seen before. At the pommel of it was a Wolf's head, quite frightening as its teeth were bared as its form of expression was of a snarl, but she wondered what significance did it hold to him? What did wolves mean to him?

Among her tribe, the wolf was revered as a symbol of many things: manhood, courage, teamwork, and strength. In fact, only the best warriors of her tribe were honored of bearing the mark of the wolf. The only way to received the mark of it was to prove their skills in sword-fighting, archery, horseriding, and physical combat. Not only that, her father said that her people descended from the mating of a wolf with a doe, which spoke of the quiet beauty of their women and the fierceness of their men.

Looking over her shoulder, she glanced at him as he shook his curly, black hair and wiped his face to get the water from his eyes. She did not know the customs of the people of the North but if he held such a symbol then it meant that he was a warrior, a very strong one. Shifting her gaze, she could tell that he was by far too busy enjoying being clean than he would have of been while answering her questions. Questions? Why should she be curious of him? Eradicating any sense of curiosity in her mind for him, she put the sword down and looked out into the distance. Her eyes studying the large trees that surrounded the spring, finding anything that was well worth to be looked at.

Her head quickly moved towards the sound of a snap. Her eyes squinted, trying to focus on what caused the sound. Amara looked back at Jon and he looked at her, already seeing her body in rigid alertness. "Hide." Her voice was stern, brushing near the volume of quietness but being loud enough for him to hear. Inhaling deeply, he let himself sink into the spring as she covered Longclaw with snow and hid his clothes in her cloak.

A pair of men had revealed themselves a scary second after. One having stalks of wheat strapped to his back. While the other man was carrying a basket that seemed to be overflowing with what looked to be fruit. Both of them them had stopped walking upon the sight of her, the oddity of a woman in black that was a vast contrast of the white snow around them. "Are ya alright, lady?" The wheat-carrying man asked. With some thought, she found it was obvious he bought them since there was no way wheat could grow in this weather nor in the North.

Amara dipped her head in a slow nod. "Yes, I am. I was contemplating if I wanted to bathe here or not."

"We ain't gonna stop ya." The one on the right said, "Might want to watch tho."

Frowning, she fought to not keep the downward curl of her lips a second longer. Instead, she forced herself to smile, which made her eyes looked as if they smiled too due the slant shape of them. "I would rather you not but I'll take that as a compliment, kind sir."

"Are ya sure yer alright? Yer quite a long ways from a town." The man who carried wheat, she liked him better. "We can help escort ya there, if ya'd like."

Shaking her head, she kept her smile but it felt more genuine than forced this time. "I'm fine, rest assured. Thank you for worrying of me."

The wheat man nodded and gave her a light smile. "The Watch are lookin' for Jon Snow." He explained, her eyes widening somewhat but she tried to mask her expression. "I dunno what he did but ya should be careful of 'em."

"Yea," Agreed the man on the right, "lot of 'em bastards are rapers and thieves that people didn't want. Jon is, or _was_ , a good guy but I heard he was a traitor for those damn Wildlings. Hard to believe Ned's kid would want to be part of 'em."

Amara looked towards the spring, seeing the rise of bubbles as she knew Jon was probably going to need some air soon. She couldn't let the men keep staying here but she could not hurriedly send them away. It would prove suspicious. "I see. Jon Snow, huh? I'm not from the North, so I have no idea who he is but he seems to have quite the reputation."

"Mhm." The fruit fellow nodded, chewing on a stalk of wheat that he probably took from his friend. "He is baseborn of the previous Lord of Winterfell. All of 'em Starks were loved by us, they were good people. Shame for what happened to their family. They'll probably sing songs of tragedies of 'em soon. Jon is a bastard, so, he couldn't inherit nothin'. I would've liked to see him King in the North after young Robb than the damn Roose Bolton as Warden and his mad son of his."

"A lot has gone on this year." Her hands laced together, her eyes looking down in thought. "Aren't there other Starks? I'm sure they'll rise again."

"I dunno." The man on the right shrugged his shoulders, continuing to speak. "Lady Sansa's married to that crazy bastard fuck, Ramsay Bolton, and Lady Arya's been missin' a good long time." His eyes then looked up in thought, "And those little Stark boys were burned alive. I remembered by their father's own ward, the Greyjoy."

Her eyes grew big, shocked to hear that all of this had happened. Her eyes shifted back to the spring, seeing bubbles come up much faster this time. Jon's whole family was nearly decimated with the exception of his sisters. No wonder she could see that sorrowful look in his eyes every now and then. She'd be devastated if any of her family members went through that.

 _"Honor killed my father and my brother."_

Ah yes, he did tell her that. She remembered. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head down in a rather despondent manner. "For shame to have dealt with things like that. I give the Starks my sympathy although it won't give them much or bring them back."

"A good ol' prayer to the Gods may help their souls rest easy." The man on the left said in efforts to cheer her up. "Well, we should be on our way. Take yer bath."

Giving a slight bow, she watched them leave and followed them until they entered the thick thicket of trees. A sigh escaped her as she made her way towards the water, quickly. Jon had saw her hazy reflection from the surface and then swam up, gasping for air to quickly refill his lungs. "Who…" He panted heavily, wiping his face. "Who were they?"

Kneeling down into the snow, she looked over her shoulder to inspect the area. "Two villagers." Amara answered, "They were using this area to go through, that's all." There was a slight look of relief on his face as he gave her a slight nod. "The Night's Watch are looking for you." He looked up at her, not seemingly surprised. Jon knew they would look for him, and probably want to redo what they done to him last but made sure he stayed dead this time. "C'mon before you prune."

 **...**

Once they made it back to that small home, Amara had used her cloak to hide his face from the travelers they had meant alongside the road. People would look at him questioningly, but he never kept eye contact with many of them for long. It felt silly to wear but it done him justice and he was grateful that she offered it to him even though she seemed reluctant to part with it. Someone must've given it to her, it held a bit of sentimental value. Who else fears to part with an item that meant nothing to them?

Knowing the Watch knew he was still alive made him wonder how long he could keep being on the run. He would have to face them soon but not while he was still weak. He wondered if that almost meant they would part ways and where she would go after taking care of him? Would she travel to the next village and heal the weak and ill? He supposed so since that was her job but he hadn't know what to think about it.

She led him back to the cot and he had sat at the edge of it before letting his face rest in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. Amara gazed at him, wondering what he had been thinking and what he was planning to do. Once he was well, what path would he take? It shouldn't have been her business but after hearing the tragic ends of the Stark men, and knowing suffering herself, would he take on a second chance to live life the way he wanted? Why was the Watch so important to him in the first place? Were there more Wildlings to be fought? "Lay down, Snow."

"I'm not tired." He replied, raising his head and letting out a sigh.

"I'm going to rub Lavender oil on your legs." She said as she walked towards the desk and pulled out a medium-sized bottle.

Confused, he raised a brow. "Why would I need Lavender oil? I don't wish to smell of it."

"Why? Do you think only women should wear these types of scents?" She asked, not bothering to look at him as she unscrewed the top and sniffed the scent to see if it was still potent.

Clearing his throat, he looked to the floor. "I think they are for girls; girls smell of flowers and other dainty things."

His reply made her hmph, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "She may smell as dainty as a rose, but she'll cut you with her thorns. Even the most pleasing things are poisonous, Jon Snow." His eyes gazed up at her as she turned to look at him. "But in this case, smelling like a girl will help ease the muscles in your legs. That way, you won't be hobbling like a one-legged pirate."

Setting his jaw, he shifted his gaze out of embarrassment. So she had seen him trying his best not to hobble. It figures. "You'll be the only one to smell me so there's no use in arguing."

"There wouldn't be much of an argument." Amara said, "I am your healer and you are still in my care. You ought to listen to me or I'll leave you in the middle of the night so you can fend for yourself with your _manly_ scent."

Seeing him not say another word and transfix his gaze in a designated spot, she realized that she had won. He did as she told him, but he had sat up and had his legs stretched in front of him. The wariness was radiating off him but Amara dismissed it. She had taken a free pillow and placed them under his knees and knelt at the end of the bed, her hands lifted up the right pant's leg of his breeches and she could see him staring at her, following every movement she had made.

"I'm sure you've been touched by a woman before." She had raised the pant's leg of his left leg and he cleared his throat.

"I am no virgin if that's what you're asking." Jon replied as she then lathered her hands in the sweet smelling oil before using her palm to stroke his toes and to the top of his legs.

"Then realize I am not doing this out of desire for you." Amara explained as the strokes were long and her palm soft as she moved up his pale limb and down again—even going as far to lightly go over the knees, which made him shiver. "I hold no desire for you."

Jon did not know rather to think something was wrong with him. Was he ugly? Was it the scar on his face? He never bothered to care if he was considered handsome or not, but he was sure he was not ugly. It did wound his pride to hear her say that. It hurt even more than the sudden shift of pain he felt due to sensitive areas that were tense even during his bath. His body then relaxed as soon the muscles of his legs loosened.

She had performed the same technique to his right leg as she done his left. "It is not that I do not think you're a good looking man." It was as if she read his thoughts, "I just desire no man."

Her hands lifted and rested the left ankle his palm, massaging it right her right hand, one thumb on one side; fingers on the other. "Were you hurt before?"

"Hurt is such a kind word." The corner of her lips went up in a small smile, "You make it sound as if it was just a little pain." Jon was studying every moment she was doing, watching her lithe fingers do wonders. His eyes steadily gazed up back to her face and at her expression. Yes, Amara had been hurt before.

"I was betrayed by the man I loved." Amara slowed down her actions and then shifted her gaze to meet his curious eyes. "He sliced off the head of my father after promising to help him." His widened just a fraction, "I was the princess of my clan and my father made me marry that man in order to unite our clans. My husband was good to me at first, very gentle and very sweet. I was only fourteen when I married him. He harbored hatred for my father for killing his, but his father was a mad man who lusted for power. My father put an end to him even though that was his best friend."

She worked her way up his leg with her thumb and fingers, going softly over the knees but firmly on his thighs. "When he killed him, I hated him but I still loved him. I loved him very much." For a second, he thought she shed a tear but her face was dry and her eyes holding nostalgia than tears. "I even loved him when I put a spear through his heart and watched the light go out of his eyes and the color leave his face."

"But you loved your father more." Jon said and was given a nod.

"I loved him more." She repeated, "And I could not stay with a man who killed my father for such stupid vengeance. I left my brother as the leader of the tribe and left my home. I thought and promised myself I would never love again or desire no man. No matter how cold and lonely the nights were, my heart stayed with my patients. I'd pour my love into helping them and not a single person."

It reminded him of his vows for the Watch. Jon had broken them for Ygritte, thinking he had no choice. He thought he physically broken them, but he emotionally broke them too. He understood her pain and more than understood for pouring their love into their duties. Their duties mean more than loving another, and when it conflicted with him, he chose his duties despite the pain of not choosing over his lover.

"If it means anything…" Her eyes slowly gazed up at him, "I am the same."

Her eyes looked down at his legs, seeing them rather relaxed than they had been earlier. "It means a lot."


	4. Chapter 4: Here Pt1

**Author's Note** : It has been sooooo long, but its finally back. Maybe after watching that last episode made me really want to update this story so suddenly.

* * *

Snow had halted from the grey overcast; the clouds had finally ran out of the crystals of ice after the rages of snow that kept on for days now. The thick snow had doubled since Amara first arrived, blankets of it were much thicker now; just piles and piles of it that stretched on for miles. And above on the trees that range from short to high, snow would sprinkle down like powder every time a strong gale came whistling through and gave them a mighty shake. Amara watched from the inside since the dip in temperature surely alerted her how cold it was enough. She didn't wish to test the weather for herself since she could barely keep her teeth from chattering indoors.

Jon was sitting at the small table of what would be considered the eating area of the home. His lips were pressed against a bowl, drinking down whatever was left of the stew. He ate like he never had before sometimes and then other times, he ate as if eating was a chore. His hunger must've fluctuated from the medicine and the tea she would make him drink. The tea, for the most part, would fill him like food would've most of the time. Her favorite part of the day were the reactions he would have to tea she would make him. She prescribed him certain flavors based on how he felt; she didn't expect such an array of reactions based on flavors.

Black tea was his favorite. He enjoyed it and finished it to completion with a rather contented look on his face. Sometimes he would lie about what ails him so that he could have it because he didn't like the other ones despite their health benefits. Chamomile was his least favorite and sometimes she caught him trying to pour it into the fire pit to douse the fire at night. It didn't enrage her as it should've since she took the time to make it, but it made her laugh instead. She hid her laughs with a cup of her hand as she saw him whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

"You could've been a Cook." His voice somewhat startled her, her eyes that were absently looking at him gained focus to see clearly. From what she could see now was that he was giving her a half of a smile as he spoke. "You're a better cook than the one we have at the Wall. If we all ate your cooking, I doubt we'd have time to bicker and fight with one another. Sam probably wouldn't even want to leave."

He always sounded rather wistful speaking about this Sam person. How did this Sam manage to leave the Wall in peace anyway? From what she gathered, you stay as a Night's Watch or you die as one as soon as you've taken your vows. That was one of the main reasons why they searched high and low for Jon other than the fact that he was supposed to dead. He also still should be claimed as their Lord Commander since he was still alive or that's all she could really assume regarding to that. Amara hadn't bothered to ask him anything about it seeing as he still didn't come to terms in what he exactly intended to do.

"I wouldn't have minded being a cook." Her shoulders went up and down in a light shrug, "But not for the Watch."

His brow quirked, "I wouldn't have wanted you there either."

"Why is that?" She asked with pure curiosity, "Is it because I do not do well under authority?"

"That and because many of the men there are rapers." He answered rather solemnly, "Imagine how they'd act seeing a woman after all this time?" He paused for a moment, seemingly like he was going to say something more but changed his mind. "You claim you can protect yourself, and I don't know if that holds true or no, but that many men against one of you? I wouldn't want to see it happen. I wouldn't allow it to happen."

Was she supposed to be honored that he wanted her to avoid such a fate? She wanted to be, just for the tiniest of notions, but she was too busy annoyed. She was annoyed by the fact that he didn't believe her words. So her word was not good enough? He would have to see in person just how well she fought? How she could clearly hold her own?

"Should I be touched by how protective you are of me?" He nearly blanched at the question, choking out some coughs from his tea going down the wrong pipe.

"That…" Clearing his throat some more, he hammered his chest with his fist. Not hard enough for him to harm himself, just enough to clear him of this rather troubling, short-lived condition he was in. "That isn't what I meant."

"Then what will it take for you to believe me?" With an inquisitive tilt of her head, she slowly turned to face him with her brows raised and her eyes staring intensely at his own. "Must I prove it to you? I've given you no reason to doubt me."

"It's not that I don't think you can." Placing the cup of tea down on the table to save himself from repeating his last mistake. He began resting his hands on the table before folding them neatly. "I would think you wouldn't want to. A healer doesn't kill people, they save them."

A smile played about her lips and soon, she found herself shaking with laughter. How…cute. She couldn't help but to find him cute then. Like a child, like a little boy who swore he had it all figured out. How does one as old as he actually think so simply? So innocently? Why did the world give people such soft hearts like that? Was it because they liked to break them? Possibly, and she found her laughter quickly dying as soon as it came. It felt wrong to laugh at how naïve his words sounded. He was a good person. He hadn't deserved her laughing so blatantly at him like that.

His eyes were boring into her, a tight frown on his lips and some narrowing of his eyes. He was irritated by her laughing, and obviously confused as to what she found so humorous about what he said. It didn't help that when she finally stopped that she started to laugh again once her eyes observed his annoyed expression. It only made his frown deeper and his hands curl up into loose fists. "I don't see what's so funny about what I said."

"How could you not?" Wiping a tear that pooled out the corner of her right eye, she shook her head in further disbelief. "You really haven't learned anything, have you? Do you know anything?"

 _"You know nothing!"_

Ygritte's voice whispered in his mind like a sudden breeze. He felt stilted by it like he could feel its chill from its nonexistent caress. He was already tired of hearing that; that he knew nothing. Perhaps it was true. He didn't know anything. He was naïve, he trusted too easily, and he believed that things could work and change if someone fought hard enough for it. Believing in his Watch brothers was what killed him. He believed they would see their wrongs, that they would listen to him, that they would fight with him, and follow him justly as their Lord Commander. Did seeing the good out of anything really make a person so stupid? Did he truly know nothing? Hasn't he learned something at least?

 _"I know that I love you."_

His own words haunted him. Out of all the things he knew, he knew that he loved her. But just how much did he? He didn't love her enough to strip away his honor and completely forsake his vows. He didn't love her enough to turn against the very brothers that turned against him now. He didn't love her enough to save her, but he loved her enough to let her body burn in quiet. In the forest over the Wall. He loved her enough to give her body rightful peace in death, but not enough to keep her from death itself.

Jon lips pried themselves apart for a brief second to speak, but he took a quick intake of breath instead. The dark-haired woman was standing before him, forehead pressed to his and her eyes just inches away from his own. Jon found himself unable move from the spot he sat in under her fixed stare. His mind couldn't wrap around why she was so close or what she would need to convey in such little space. Her eyes were searching for something in his, trying to read something that he wasn't sure was even there. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried to think of why he shouldn't feel so nervous. Why did his heart that still mourned and loved Ygritte was beating so rapidly that he thought she could possibly hear it?

"Haven't you learned, Jon Snow, that people are not always how they seem?" There was a scary yet lulling way of the tone she spoke in. It was almost like a melody of a song with a lyric that caught you by surprise and stayed in your head, wrapping around every thought so you wouldn't forget it. It froze him and warmed him, and it made him feel small. Simple words had done all of that in such a short span of time. "You shouldn't put your trust in anyone. Not even I who healed you. Trust yourself and trust none, Snow. You might just stay alive if you do."

With a crinkle of her eyes and her lips curling in a smirk, she stepped back, but his hand snatched her wrist and brought her back to where she once was. Her eyes widened just a fraction in surprise as their gaze remained locked, the nearness she made for augur was used against her. It was used against her for the very opposite effect; one that made her almost fearful. "I trust you. If you really wanted, you could've let me die but you didn't."

"Because I'm a healer." Her answer came quickly, brow raised to convince the simplicity of it. "Most of all, I'm being rewarded. Don't think of me so kindly. I told you before if you weren't given to me in the state the Red Woman gave you to me, I wouldn't have attempted to save you." She told him so plainly, like she was stating the very horrible obvious. She spoke cruel words as if they were sweet, and made it hard for you to soak in that they were insults.

"I don't mind your conversation or presence." The look on her face was of reluctance, like she didn't want to admit that. He would've believed her if he hadn't caught her struggling not to smile. "But you and I will split our ways in a few days time. I thought some wisdom would do you some good until then. I'd like think one day Jon Snow will become someone someday and I'll hear his name in the wind and say 'I suppose I didn't do so bad after all' or something like that."

"You've only just made me trust you more." He didn't even think before he said it and he could tell that she was troubled by that fact. He said it so naturally, without fault. He said it truly, and she found herself pulling her arm as if he were an enemy.

"Then you really are a fool; soft heart, hard head, and too pretty of a face for your own good." His hands loosened and let her slip from his grasp. He laughed at that. When all he hated was being called pretty, he found it funny coming from her though. She might've thought him mad. Essentially, Jon was beginning to think that he might've been. Mad; a madman that trusted too easily and died from it. A madman that never learns. A madman that trusted a woman who told him not to trust her. A madman or more like a mad-bastard. That had been more fitting.

The silence between them now was strange, and he understood why. Jon could guess she had no idea of what to think of him now since they only known each other for a short time. Three weeks he counted now. Within these weeks she learned only a few odd things about him and he only discovered so little about her. All he had was her strange personality that ranged from hot to cold, and sometimes a lukewarmness that she reserved for times where he least expected it.

"When do you think I'll be well enough to leave?" Jon found himself asking. His mind was made all the way up exactly, but such a large part of him was telling him that he needed to go back to the Wall. The stubborn parts of him were much too proud to just run away after all he did; the years he spent, all the blood and sweat and tears he lost and poured into the Watch. Just to simply run away because of this would haunt him forever.

The healer turned to him, her inquisitiveness written all over her face. "Four more days." A specific number? How did she know by just four more days that he would be healed? Like she knew what he was thinking, she faced away to look back at the window as she had done previously. "I would suggest longer, but there is no need. You ought to walk around to bring back all the strength in your legs, the journey should suffice in that. Unless you would like me to escort you to the Wall and we'll part from there."

After the insults, she insists on being kind? Even going as far to giving him a ride ahorse back to the Wall? When she just told him he was silly for trusting? How confusing, he couldn't help but think. He smiled though at her high and low changes. Just attempting to figure her out was a headache within itself. "You would be so kind enough?"

"I figure it would be best since the Red Woman meant to pay me will be there. She said she would come for you and yet she might be tied into other matters. Doesn't matter to me as long as I am rewarded." The disappointed that appeared cut through him like a fine dagger. Amara did not wish to spend more time with him, she sought the concerns of her payment more. Why should he be disappointed was what really bothered him. He shouldn't have cared, but he did.

"Tell me," He began, lips almost daring to close to keep his curiosities to himself, "you are not fond of people, are you?"

Amara snorted, eyes squint as she spun to face him. "What brings you to that thought? Do I seem unfriendly? I am quite friendly, Lord Commander. I just don't see the point with you."

Another cut.

Now he was growing frustrated more than he was upset. Why would she say think or think it for that matter? How could she go from admitting she enjoyed his presence and conversation to saying that she doesn't see the point in friendliness with him? What was wrong with him? With her, most likely. Why did she always take back what she said or act as if she never said them.

Then it suddenly came to mind when she called him Lord Commander. Normally, a Jon Snow or Snow would be said, never a Lord Commander. Why did his title hold any weight to her now? His grey eyes stared intensely at her, the corner of her lips half raised. Jon wouldn't consider them close by any means, but there was something warm or even neutral there. Now it had gone cold and hostile in a matter of minutes.

"I fail to understand what you mean." The Night's Watchmen admitted, "Have I offended you?"

"No, not at all." It was fun to toy with him, seeing that solemn face he wears so often come back with a twinge of irritation glittering in his eyes. Why was it so fun? She hardly had the clue, but to push his button to see how far he'd go was more than entertaining, In some ways, she figured he was the type to hardly lash out. He always kept himself controlled to an ungodly degree; that couldn't be healthy. "Do you take offense to what I said? Do you see me as something more than a healer? A friend, perhaps?"

His lips pried themselves apart, an answer about to be said but he closed them. His brows bowed in thought, concentration, and then he suddenly averted his gaze. Oh, how he confused he was and yet she looked at him expectantly. What would his answer be? The suspense was getting thicker and she wondered if that was a good or bad thing.

Rather than saying anything, he merely scooted the chair back and stood to his feat. With a slight limp, he made his way back to his room and closed the door behind him. Now it was her turn to be frustrated and confused. Why didn't he answer? Why didn't he say anything? Why did he behave like he was going to answer and then choose silence instead?

 **. . .**

Four days turned into two and was about to turn one since it was night. Jon was without her for an entire day and a half and it felt so strange to not see her or hear her personally, but she came to his room, he knew. A bowl of soup was placed on his desk each morning along with his medicine for him to take. She was purposely avoiding from what he could see and he wasn't sure why it bothered him that she did. Was it because of how their conversation ended last? Did she think he was angry with her? He was, in a way, but not enough to say he would ignore her or want to be avoided.

Jon wasn't sure how to approach Amara again. She wasn't the approachable type. Her appearance was intimidating and her words oft mean. Yet he yearned her presence, to hear her speak her mean words. She was only person he knew for these past days that she felt like everyone he knew wrapped into one.

His appetite wouldn't come back, he rather toyed with the food and placed the bowl back down on the desk. Within minutes, he got himself to his feet, opening the door that led to the eating area easily to see and feel that the house had been empty. There was not one bit of sound or any sort of presence to be felt to alert someone that they weren't alone. Jon had looked towards her door, wondering if she was sleeping and that's why she had been quiet. He didn't like the odds of it and found himself too curious to put an end to it all. He clambered his way to the door, opening it with such a quickness that he was hardly sure if he entered her room or not.

It was empty.

The bed was made, no candle lit, and there was nothing that could be considered of value to her. His eyes widened at the possibility that she had left him here. Had she lied? Had Amara really plan to leave him without a word? Had she thought it better to leave him in the middle of the night without a word? Did she think he'd be better off without her now? Was he already well and she was unsure of how to tell him? All these thoughts kept circling and he wasn't sure which could be truth or which was just his imagination running wild. Whatever it all had meant, Jon felt…alone.

Loneliness was something he knew quite well and it shouldn't have stung him to meet its face again. It shouldn't have made him think that he would never know it once he became apart of the Watch, made friends with some of his brothers as well as some of the Wildlings. It should've been a friend that came and went, whenever it wanted to see him. And yet loneliness felt like a stranger that he had to meet and know all over again. That he had to accept it when he didn't want to after knowing what a world without it was like.

Grabbing his cloak, Jon rushed outside with his feet trudging through the snow to see the stars lighting up the night that was without a moon. He had seen not one soul out here and he didn't even see her horse. There were no traces of hoof prints or her own footprints, which led him to believe she left long enough for the snow to cover up all the tracks. She really left… Without a note, without a word, or not even a sign that she would go. Amara was gone like she never existed, almost making him wonder if he had managed to conjure her up in his head.

His head turned towards the Wall, seeing even while being this far. He should leave now, even though it was dark and would not be firstlight any time soon. Amara did not look to return and nor did she think him unwell enough to not go back to Castle Black. She told him it would be better if he walked there, to strengthen his legs back to their normality. _'Why did she offer me her horse if she intended to leave me here?'_ He asked himself, still confused by being suddenly abandoned. _'Was that to make me not think she'd leave?'_

Jon soon turned to look at the distance at the spring she had taken him before. The sudden memory of her awkwardly walking him to the water had came to mind, strange as it was. It shouldn't be a fond memory and yet it was in the forefront of his mind, nearly making him laugh at how she behaved the whole time. She seemed so unwillingly and yet she helped him.

As if he had no control of himself, Jon made his way towards the springs. It was a lengthy walk, one he shouldn't be making in the snow, but he had done so anyway. He had dealt with much worse being North of the Wall, so the snow here wasn't nearly as bad. He had slightly ate something warm, enough to keep him fueled for a while, and so he didn't see the harm in it. His clothes weren't that great in this weather and he remembered the last time she took him there, she gave him her cloak. It wasn't to keep him warm but to hide his face.

It smelled like the sea herself; unforgiving and calm, breezy and still. He thought it suited her, while sometimes it had been so pleasant to gaze upon, it could be scathing. He liked to think Amara was somewhere between them both. And yet he searched for her, a shred of him hoping she'd be at the springs. It didn't come to mind that she could be bathing, which didn't seem to make sense due to the many hours that past. She would've shriveled up had she stayed out there for that long.

When he reached the spring, a sigh of relief seemed to escape him as he saw the healer sitting on a snow-covered boulder, head tilted back to gaze up at the night. At her side, however, was an unexpected surprise. "Ghost?"

Both Amara and the direwolf turned to look at him, her eyes watching the white wolf immediately go to his side as he bent down on one knee to scratch the wolf between the ears. By the time his eyes raised up to look at her, she had already turned away from him. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"What doesn't surprise you?" Confused of what she meant, he watched Ghost nuzzled his head against his hand, not finished receiving the attention he had been longing for from him.

"That you know the beast and the beast knows you." He was hoping that the fact that he came looking for her would've been much more of a surprise. Did she expect him to? Did she know that somewhere along the line, he wouldn't just leave if he thought she had left? "He wouldn't leave me no matter how many times I shoo'd him away."

There was a connection between a direwolf and his master, he knew, but why did Ghost stay by Amara? She was a stranger to him, there was no way of him knowing her, and yet he guarded her? Ghost was not fond of strangers and usually saw them as a threat or someone not worth paying a close eye to and yet he stayed by her side as if he worried to leave her alone. "I raised him since he was a pup." Jon admitted to her, "We've shared a close bond since then." He wasn't sure how he was supposed to explain it to a foreigner. She knew nothing of wargs or a special bond between animal and man.

"Oh, I've noticed." There was a hint of a smile in her voice, "The both of you are quite vexing. I see you share that in common."

Frowning, he could tell she was laughing by the trembling of her shoulders. She liked to laugh at his expense. In some way, that reminded him of Ygritte, who had no problem poking fun at him, even if he disliked it. Strange how he caught glimpses of the only woman he loved whenever he was around her. He wasn't sure if he was intentionally looking for Ygritte in her or if this was his mind trying to keep her alive in efforts to not forget her.

"Why are you here?" She finally asked and he had been dreading when she would. Jon wasn't sure how to explain why he came looking for her. He wasn't halfway all too sure of the answer of that to himself. "Did you miss me?" Flustered, his eyes looked every which way but at her. As if she knew his reaction, she laughed again. "You're too easy."

Gathering herself to her feet, she groomed herself by smoothing out the creases of her robes and removing the snow that clung onto her clothes. Raising her head to look at him, who stood there like was frozen in place. "I thought you left." He finally gave her an answer, clear in what he meant. Clear in the reasons as to why he came looking for her.

Amara raised her brows in surprise before schooling expression to a neutral look. "I considered it. Leaving, I mean."

"Without telling me?" Jon remained persistent in getting his answers. "You could've at least done that."

"I've never been good with goodbyes." She admitted, sounded quite awkward. "I also don't owe you an explanation. I suppose it would've been rude, but I never been the reflection of decorum now have I?"

"You could say that again." Jon found himself muttering, not realizing that he was still loud enough for her to hear it.

Catching his mistake, his eyes widened by a fraction as he noticed the half smile on her face. "I like you better when you're honest. It would be wiser if you spoke your mind more often, you seem like a pushover."

Sighing, Jon crossed his arms over his chest. "And I like you better when you're not hurling insults at me."

"Then you don't like me at all." The black-haired healer had brought her lips to her mouth to create a whistle. In just a matter of seconds, her horse came out from the surrounding woods and towards her, slowing down into a trot when it neared her. "Let's go, Lord Commander. I think it is about time I brought you back where you belong."


End file.
